


The Tangled Woods

by glitterburn (orphan_account)



Category: Onmyouji (The Yin-Yang Master)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 13:05:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/glitterburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arriving at the house of an acquaintance, Seimei and Hiromasa find strange things afoot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tangled Woods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Becky](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Becky).



> Written for the Yuletide NYR challenge. The story is a spin on Pu Songling's tale 'Lust Punished By Foxes' in _Strange Tales From A Chinese Studio_ (No. 88 in John Minford's edition for Penguin, 2006; no. 250 in Zhang Youhe's Variorum edition of 1962).

"Are we there yet?" Hiromasa asked for what felt like the fifteenth time that afternoon.

Seated opposite him in the ox-cart, Seimei gave a soft, discreet sigh. "We are not going all the way to Nara today."

"We aren't?" Hiromasa's mood improved at the prospect of a rest. "That's good. I find travel extremely wearisome."

"I apologise for the tediousness of my company," Seimei said dryly. "Doubtless you'd prefer to be reciting poetry to a princess or matching witticisms with your fellow noblemen, or whatever else it is you do at court – but may I remind you that it was your decision to come with me on this trip."

"Oh, it's not the company I object to, but the length of the journey." Hiromasa leaned back against the scatter of cushions that provided some small measure of comfort against the hard wooden floor of the ox-cart. He stretched out as best he could, only to wince when the cart lurched through a pot-hole in the road. "I thought since you have an enchanted ox to draw your cart, you might have considered equipping it with enchanted cushions to make the ride more comfortable."

Seimei raised his eyebrows. "Enchanted cushions, indeed."

Hiromasa chuckled and slouched lower. "Where are we stopping for the night?"

"At the house of an acquaintance." Seimei tilted his head as if listening to something, and then he put a finger to his lips and murmured a few words around it. The ox lowed, and Hiromasa slid sideways as the cart made a sharp left turn.

The bumpy ridges of the road gave way to an altogether smoother ride. Hiromasa sat up and lifted the curtain, peering out at the landscape. They travelled now over an expanse of grass, moving towards a dark swathe of dense woodland. He frowned, trying to identify their location. "Where are we, exactly?"

"Hahaso Woods."

"The road to Nara goes around the woods," Hiromasa said, unable to keep the doubt from his voice.

"Indeed."

"Your friend lives in the woods?" As soon as the question left his lips, Hiromasa had a frightening thought. He let the curtain drop back into place and faced his companion. "Seimei. This friend of yours..."

"He is merely an acquaintance."

Hiromasa waved to acknowledge the point. "This acquaintance, then. Is he... well, is he... _normal_?"

Seimei gave him a look of perfect blankness. "Perhaps you could be a little more specific, Hiromasa. I'm not sure I understand your definition of 'normal'."

"You know." Hiromasa flapped his hands. "Normal. As in human. Not one of your... relatives."

A smile pulled at the corners of Seimei's mouth. "I promise you, I have no relatives in this province."

"Good." Somewhat reassured, Hiromasa allowed himself to relax again. "So who is your acquaintance? Anyone I know?"

Seimei smoothed his fingers over his folded fan, his brow furrowing before he spoke. "You may have heard of him. Ono no Takasue is a scholar, though a poor example of one. His Chinese is quite dreadful and his poetry unbearable. This, I think, is the reason he doesn't often show his face in the capital."

Hiromasa blinked. "Because he is a bad poet?"

"Precisely." Seimei opened the fan, dark orange paper with inked black leaves and a sprinkle of gold upon its surface. "Instead of the capital, he spends his time visiting provincial towns whose inhabitants are impressed by his spurious wisdom. Naturally, he has mistresses in every town."

"Despite his bad poetry?" Hiromasa wrinkled his nose.

"Ah." Seimei looked at him across the top of the fan, a gleam in his eyes. "I should tell you also that Ono no Takasue is a notable expert on aphrodisiacs. His collection is superb; his dedication to the subject quite remarkable. It's his life's work. As a young man he travelled the length of the country searching for ingredients. He's spent a fortune on buying goods from the mainland – powdered dragon's eggs, the essence of a sea-monster, the musk glands of a kirin... He even has aphrodisiacs from the far west, from the lands beyond China."

Hiromasa tried to comprehend the mindset of anyone so dedicated as to seek out the musk glands of a kirin. Surely such a thing was quite disgusting. "You sound as though you disapprove."

"Of aphrodisiacs?" Seimei gave a wry smile. "They have their uses."

"Do they even work on you?" The question slipped out before Hiromasa realised what he'd said. Horrified, he clapped a hand over his mouth and mumbled around his fingers: "Uh, I mean – that is to say, as the son of a fox-woman, surely you're immune to... some things..."

Seimei hid his laughter behind his fan. "The point, Hiromasa, is that Takasue tests his aphrodisiacs on his mistresses. His poetry is so poor he cannot rely on it to achieve a seduction; therefore he invites the lady to dine with him and pours the aphrodisiac into her wine or crushes it into her food."

The fan dipped, revealing Seimei's expression. For once, he looked serious. "He keeps detailed notes of the responses, including the age of the lady, what stage of the moon she's in, and other, more delicate matters."

Hiromasa shifted on the cushions, a squeamish feeling tickling at his insides. "That seems... distasteful."

Seimei's eyes flashed. "He claims to do it in the name of science."

Hiromasa brightened with sudden realisation. "You don't like him."

The fan snapped shut, the sound sharp in the confines of the ox-cart. Seimei sat up straight. "He has a wife."

"I can understand your disapproval of his use of aphrodisiacs to seduce innocent women. Such a thing is beneath a nobleman, after all. But as for his treatment of his wife..." Hiromasa heaved a deep sigh. "Truly, Seimei, I despair of you. How can you be so wise and yet so narrow-minded? You are not that ignorant of the ways of the court. Why, I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of men faithful to their wives!"

The look Seimei turned on him was disconcertingly banal. "His wife is very beautiful."

"Oh." Surprise tinged his voice and made him catch his breath. His thoughts raced as he tried to recall any other time Seimei had specifically mentioned a woman's beauty. Hiromasa could think of nothing, and it troubled him. The more he considered it, the more he became convinced. For Seimei to notice a woman's looks meant only one thing: his friend was in love with Ono no Takasue's wife.

An odd feeling came over Hiromasa. Part jealousy, part glee that here at last was something he could use to tease Seimei, the indefinable whole made him lower his gaze from Seimei's too-sharp, too-knowing expression. Hiromasa studied the floorboards of the ox-cart and listened to the squeak and rumble of the wheels for a long moment.

"She is beautiful, you say." Hiromasa busied himself with a loose thread on his cloak, trying to worry it back into its place in the woven pattern of the lavender brocade. "How beautiful?"

Seimei chuckled. "She is beyond compare."

Hiromasa bit his lip. He found the idea of Seimei in love very disquieting. There was nothing lover-like in his tone, and when Hiromasa glanced at him, he could discern no ardent passion upon his friend's pale, narrow face. He'd thought it impossible for Seimei to lose his heart to anyone; that he, Minamoto no Hiromasa, was the closest thing to an intimate companion Seimei had ever had. To suddenly discover he was second best to a woman – a woman who lived in the woods, at that – was rather galling.

"I find their marriage very unequal," Seimei said, lounging back on his cushions. "While he is free to visit his mistresses, he forbids his wife to leave their estate. Lady Jiju is forced to rusticate alone, without any lovers or admirers to pay court to her. She was raised in the capital and married off to Takasue at a young age, and has missed out on the many charming diversions available to ladies at court."

Hiromasa thought he detected irony. How often had Seimei mocked him and his fellow courtiers for their insistence on following set modes of behaviour, for their insistence on pretty manners and allusive language and their febrile sighing over transient beauty? Surely this was yet another sly dig. "Ah, Seimei – you're making a joke!"

"I assure you I'm not." Seimei's expression shuttered, becoming unreadable. He pillowed his cheek on his hand and said softly, "Unequal relationships bother me."

"It is the nature of things," Hiromasa said, puzzled.

"Indeed. And that's why there are so many demons in this world."

"Because of unequal relationships?"

Seimei exhaled a soft sound. "Hiromasa, you know very well what unreciprocated love can do to a person."

Hiromasa swallowed. He remembered Lady Sukehime's transformation into a monstrous demon and his own fears that he, too, might become the vessel for a love-starved creature unless he distracted himself with music. He shook off the unpleasant thoughts. "Is Lady Jiju in love with her husband?"

"That is not the issue here. Ono no Takasue has a sexual appetite enhanced by his aphrodisiacs and satisfied – at least on a physical level – by a number of mistresses. Lady Jiju is young and beautiful and forbidden any kind of intercourse, let alone of a sexual nature, with men aside from her often-absent husband. It is a situation of extremes and great imbalance. You do not need to be a yin yang master to know of the dangers of overindulgence and forced denial." Seimei's tone became airy. "It is my belief we can expect a demon to intervene in due course."

Suspicion edged Hiromasa's mind. He peered at Seimei. "That's why we're staying at their house tonight, isn't it? You didn't really intend to go to Nara. That was just an excuse to get me here."

"Oh, we are going to Nara. I have business there, as I told you." Seimei raised an eyebrow. "As I recall, you invited yourself on this excursion. Certainly I didn't ask you to accompany me."

"Nonsense! You need me to assist you with the demon."

"There might not be a demon... yet."

"No. I see what must be done." Hiromasa squared his shoulders in what he hoped was a manful way. "You want me to flirt with the lady, flatter her and pay attention to her. I can do it, Seimei. You need not trouble yourself with this matter. If you engage Ono no Takasue in conversation, I will find a way to charm Lady Jiju and make her happy, thereby driving off the demon before it can strike."

Seimei looked at him, the smallest hint of a smile threatening to ruin his composure. "You are very selfless, Hiromasa."

Hiromasa nodded, trying to stop the tremble of his own smile in response. "For the sake of a beautiful woman, I will risk everything."

Provoked into laughter, Seimei drew his sleeve across the lower half of his face. His eyes shone. "Let us hope it doesn't come to that."

"I am prepared for every eventuality." Hiromasa patted the sword in its scabbard beside him on the floor of the cart. "Ah, perhaps not every eventuality. I didn't bring my bow and arrows."

Seimei shook with fresh laughter. "I think we will manage."

The cart slowed, and the sound of tree branches scraping against the roof made Hiromasa jump. The curtain shivered and parted, revealing a thicket of tangled thorns. A trailing tendril caught on the patterned silk and tore a long strip from it. Seimei swung the sleeves of his white hunting costume out of the way, annoyance on his face.

"The woods have encroached upon the estate since last I visited. This track was clear in the fifth month."

"Perhaps Ono no Takasue wishes to discourage casual guests," Hiromasa suggested.

Seimei gave him a sharp look. "Perhaps."

The ground became more uneven and the ox bellowed. The cart gave one final, bruising jolt and came to a halt. Hiromasa lifted himself from the cushions and, aching all over, descended from the cart to land ankle-deep in thick, stinking mud.

"Seimei," he said, squelching backwards a few paces. "Be careful. There's..." He stopped, irritation flashing through him as he watched Seimei hop out of the cart and step across the rutted earth. Not a single splatter of mud clung to his soft hide boots or smeared over the trailing ends of his hunting costume.

Hiromasa sighed. Aware of seeping wetness around his toes, he pulled himself free of the sucking mud and stamped onto firmer ground. He checked his hakama for mud-stains and adjusted his cloak to cover the worst of it before he glanced about.

A canopy of trees filtered the light, casting the small clearing into permanent twilight. The occasional sunbeam pierced the foliage, but rather than bring illumination, it seemed to emphasise the darkness surrounding them. Hiromasa shivered then gave a start as a bird cried raucously from above. The odour of damp, rotting wood mingled with the whiff of stagnant water and other things Hiromasa's nose was too fine to recognise.

He had to look twice before he saw the shape of the house. Hidden behind sagebrush, its roof patterned with moss and its open gates covered in climbing creepers, it looked a most unprepossessing place. Hiromasa hoped the house was empty so they could press on with their journey, but even as he turned to put the suggestion to Seimei, a glimmer of movement from the shadows on the veranda caught his attention.

Seimei came to stand beside him. "How pitiful," he murmured. "The house is choked by concealing trees and shrubs. This cannot continue."

"Are you now an expert on gardening?" Hiromasa couldn't help the snap of exasperation in his voice. He indicated the figure emerging from the darkened entrance of the house. "Tell him of your concerns. Ono no Takasue must have a servant who can attend to this wilderness."

"You go ahead, Hiromasa. I must speak to the ox." Seimei returned to the cart and put his head close to the animal's ear. The ox whisked its tail and gave every sign of listening carefully to Seimei's whispered instructions.

Hiromasa exhaled. He lifted his chin and strode towards the silent figure on the veranda. As he drew closer, Hiromasa saw the figure was a manservant, young and handsome, with a round face and large, expressive eyes. He noted the cut and quality of the manservant's glossed silk clothes, and recognised the plum-pink combination. It was an unseasonable pairing of colours, but perhaps these provincials in their gloomy woods did not strictly adhere to the rules of fashion.

The manservant watched his approach without any sign of interest. Only when Hiromasa set foot upon the steps leading onto the veranda did the young man stir. He bowed in an awkward gesture and said, "Greetings, Lord Hiromasa."

Hiromasa stared at him, his mouth dropping open. He turned and looked back at Seimei, who was still deep in conversation with the ox. Closing his mouth again, Hiromasa faced the manservant, who regarded him with distant amusement in his gold-flecked eyes.

"How... how do you know my name?" Hiromasa stumbled up the remainder of the steps towards him. "Did Seimei tell you about me?"

The manservant smiled. "Everyone knows of Lord Hiromasa."

"Oh." It should have been a compliment, but to Hiromasa it felt quite the opposite. Still, he decided to give the young servant the benefit of the doubt. He beamed at him. "You really know who I am?"

Before the manservant could reply, Seimei finished his talk with the ox and strolled over to join them. His expression flickered as he climbed the steps, his gaze fixed on the manservant. Only long acquaintance with Seimei's carefully-contrived blank looks enabled Hiromasa to know something was wrong.

He glanced between them, his curiosity increasing when he saw surprise on the manservant's handsome face. The reaction seemed strange.

The manservant bowed his head slightly. "Lord Seimei, welcome."

"Ah." Seimei brushed past him and hesitated on the threshold. He looked back at the manservant with the kind of intensity a hawk reserves for a mouse. Within a heartbeat, his usual calm expression returned. "Is your master Ono no Takasue at home?"

"Regretfully he is away visiting the temple at Hase. We expect him back tomorrow." The manservant insinuated himself between Seimei and the door of the house. "The lady Jiju will be glad of your company. I shall inform her of your arrival."

"Thank you..." Seimei paused, looking at the manservant again with that same odd intensity. "Makio. That's your name. I remember now."

Makio bowed, deeper than before. "Thank you, Lord Seimei."

Seimei made a soft, low sound in his throat. Makio retreated, keeping his gaze on the floor, and allowed Seimei entrance into the house.

Hiromasa followed, slightly confused by what he'd just witnessed. His skin prickled with the awareness of undercurrents swirling around him. He glanced over his shoulder several times to see what Makio was doing, but caught only the gleam of speculation in the manservant's golden eyes.

* * * *

The interior of the house was a marked improvement on its external appearance. Hiromasa admired his room in the guest quarters, walking around to look closely at the inlay on a lacquered table or to study the delicate brush-strokes on a painted screen. Though it was summer, a small brazier stood in the corner of the room, a thin wisp of blue smoke rising from the ball of incense placed in its bowl. At length he pulled up the blinds and stepped out onto the veranda.

He peered into the adjacent room, looking for Seimei. He wasn't there, so Hiromasa wandered the length of the veranda. A covered walkway spanned the distance across the small courtyard separating the guest quarters from the main house. Beneath the walkway, a tiny stream trickled into the fishpond situated in the centre of the courtyard, surrounded by clusters of flowers and shiny-leafed shrubs.

He drew in a deep breath and let it sigh out. Hiromasa smiled at the simple elegance of the landscaping around him. This was how a garden should be – not wild and overgrown like Seimei's courtyard, but with each element ordered in its correct position to create the illusion of harmony. Now all he needed was for the manservant to bring him a jar of wine, and he'd be happy to settle here for the rest of the day.

He stood a while in contemplation until a carp mouthed at the surface of the pond, causing ripples. It was then that Hiromasa heard the music – a tentative, gentle resonance almost plucked from the air. He turned his head, following the sound. The notes modulated; a chord rang out boldly and was muted, changing into a flicker of individual notes as a tune emerged.

Hiromasa recognised the instrument as a seven-stringed _kin_. Surely the musician was none other than the beautiful Lady Jiju! Her music spoke of loneliness and melancholy, he decided as he strode in search of the sound. He would encourage her to play a happier tune.

The music drifted through the main house, notes lingering in some places and echoing in others. Hiromasa lifted curtains and moved aside screens, startling a maidservant who hid her face and fled before he had the chance to ask her about the source of the sound.

He went out onto the veranda again and trailed around the side of the house. The music taunted him from the other side of the courtyard wall. Hiromasa found an unlocked gate. Pushing it open, he found himself in a large, enclosed space that once, a long time ago, had been a garden. Now it was so overrun by plants as to resemble a savage wilderness.

A small pavilion stood to one side of the garden, almost obscured behind the plants surrounding it. Wild grasses grown higher than the window ledges tapped against wooden shutters carved into intricate, interlocking designs. An ancient wisteria, its branches twisted and gnarled, sheltered most of the building. Hiromasa could find no discernable path to the entrance of the pavilion but was not discouraged. Following the music, he trampled through the grass and was about to push aside the faded piece of brocade covering the doorway when a flash of white in his peripheral vision distracted him.

He turned, frowning across the overgrown garden. Inside the pavilion, the music stopped. Hiromasa looked at the door, expecting to see Lady Jiju emerge from her hiding place, but instead there was only stillness and silence.

Hiromasa stood undecided for several moments. It would be unconscionable for him to intrude on the lady's seclusion. A woman of the capital would perhaps welcome him into the pavilion and indulge herself in a light flirtation, but according to Seimei, Lady Jiju was unfamiliar with the ways of the court. His compliments might offend rather than please.

Feeling somewhat perturbed by the continuing silence, Hiromasa backed away, the grasses rustling against his brocades. As he regained the path, he saw Seimei crouched in the shadow of a weeping cherry, his hunting costume the splash of white Hiromasa had noticed before. He picked his way along the path, stepping over crawling vines and avoiding the black-tipped thorns of some unidentifiable bush that blocked his way. When he reached Seimei, Hiromasa saw that his friend was engaged in scraping moss from a small stone statue placed on an altar.

Hiromasa peered over Seimei's shoulder. The altar was covered in filth, the stone crumbling with age and damp. The area beneath the cherry tree smelled musty and cold with the layered stench of rotting leaves. A black beetle with a shiny carapace ambled around the statue's feet, close to Seimei's pale, elegant hand. Hiromasa suppressed a shudder and coughed to attract his friend's attention. "What is it?"

"Really, Hiromasa." Seimei traced the shape of the statue then dug his fingers into the vibrant green, peeling the moss away. "It's a fox shrine."

Puzzled, Hiromasa ventured a little closer and watched the moss fall away to reveal worn delineations scarred by time. "I've never seen an Inari shrine look like that before."

"It is not an Inari shrine."

"It isn't?" Hiromasa stared at the statue. "How do you know?"

Seimei gave him a look of polite disbelief before he turned his attention back to his work. Hiromasa stood for a moment, his gaze fixed on Seimei's hands. It was the first time he'd seen his friend allow himself to get dirty. Streaks of moss-green stained his fingers, and crumbling black soil caught in half-moons beneath his nails. It would have been a simple matter, surely, for Seimei to cast a spell and make the statue clean; or he could have summoned a shikigami to carry out such a menial task, and yet he was doing it himself.

"It must be very old," Hiromasa said.

"It is older than you can imagine." Seimei spoke softly, his movements gentle as he used the trailing width of one brilliant white sleeve to wipe the remaining dirt from the statue's head. "Possibly made during the kingdom of Wa."

"Of course." Hiromasa tried to sound knowledgeable. He had no idea what the kingdom of Wa was or how ancient this made the statue. One hundred years old, seven hundred, ten thousand? He watched Seimei fuss over it and felt a foolish pang of jealousy when Seimei caressed the statue's snout, or nose, or whatever it was. Annoyed by his reaction, Hiromasa said, "It has no real shape anymore. Perhaps this is why the shrine has been abandoned. No one knows what manner of creature it is, and therefore they don't know how to offer worship to it. I mean, look at it. It could be anything. A fox, a dog, a cat, maybe even a deer. A tiger. A kirin. A..."

Seimei continued working and said nothing.

Hiromasa cleared his throat. "Do you suppose Ono no Takasue and his wife know about this shrine?"

"Hiromasa..." Seimei sighed with obvious annoyance and compressed his lips.

"I'll go back to the house." Hiromasa stepped away, hearing the leaf mould squelch beneath his feet. He glanced down and grimaced at the fresh application of muck on the hem of his lavender brocade. Muttering, he strode along the path towards the gate. Halfway, he swung about and called out, "Seimei – did you hear the _kin_ music just now?"

A pause, and then Seimei replied, "Yes."

The brevity and tone of the reply encouraged Hiromasa to abandon the topic. With a sigh of defeat, he returned to the harmonious order of the courtyard garden and spent the rest of the afternoon watching the carp swim lazily in the pond.

* * * *

When the air grew chill and the sky clouded, Hiromasa changed his clothes, swapping his grubby lavender cloak for one of black glossed silk. Makio appeared on the veranda at dusk, his gaze downcast as he announced the evening meal.

Something about the manservant sent ripples of disquiet through Hiromasa, though he couldn't say what or why, exactly. Perhaps it was because of Seimei's reaction to Makio when they'd arrived at the house, or perhaps it was something else. Hiromasa knew he wasn't a particularly perceptive man, but he felt he'd learned how to read people and situations better since his relationship with Seimei had flourished. His instincts were telling him that Makio was no ordinary servant. Hiromasa decided to watch the young man closely.

He followed Makio to the main part of the house. Lamps illuminated the creeping grey of evening, and a brazier placed near the half-covered windows chased off the cool breeze. Standing curtains had been placed in front of the windows. With the fading light behind her, nothing could be seen of Lady Jiju but a silhouette.

Seimei knelt opposite the curtain, his hands folded in his lap. He looked calm and unruffled, his hunting costume immaculate over patterned violet silk and his fingernails clean once more. Hiromasa gave him a sharp look as he knelt beside him. He wondered how long Seimei had sat here talking to the lady. Had they made an assignation for that night? The thought stung him. Determined to deflect the lady's interest, Hiromasa arranged his silks to their best advantage and smiled at the curtains.

"Welcome, my lords." Jiju's voice sounded soft and sweet.

Hiromasa sat forward as she moved closer to the curtain of thick embroidered gauze. The lamps nearby threw light into the concealing shadows, but he caught only the faintest glimpse of the shape of her face. One sleeve and the train of her gown peeked from beneath the curtain, wisteria flowers embroidered on pale lilac and matched with dove-grey and white unlined silk. Hiromasa approved of the garments. Ono no Takasue may be an absent husband, but it appeared that he kept his wife in some style.

A maidservant seated behind Jiju murmured something, and the lady continued smoothly, "I am sorry my husband cannot receive you. In his absence you must be content with my poor company."

Hiromasa sent a beaming smile in her direction. "Your company could never be poor, Lady Jiju. Just hearing your voice has lightened my travel-weary mood."

Beside him, Seimei made a sound close to a snort.

Hiromasa ignored it. "What a pleasant home you have here! It must be delightfully cool in this wood during the height of summer, and in winter the trees must protect you from the worst of the wind and snow..."

He broke off as Makio entered the room bearing plates and dishes piled high with food. Hiromasa sighed in appreciation as pheasant, red beans, sweet potatoes, several small river-fish, and a selection of fruit and nuts were set in front of him. "The woodland also produces bounty good enough for the imperial table!"

Seimei buried his nose in his wine-cup and took a long draught of sake.

Jiju didn't respond to any of his remarks and appeared to be more interested in the dishes Makio brought to her curtains. Hiromasa expected the maidservant closeted with her would part the curtains and take the food, but instead Makio pushed aside the veil himself and served Jiju in person.

Hiromasa paused in the act of helping himself to the pheasant and stared at Makio's shadowy form. The manservant bent over Jiju with solicitous courtesy, and she thanked him in warm tones. Hiromasa frowned. Perhaps it was the custom for provincials to indulge in a friendly relationship with their servants. Or, he thought with a flicker of unease, perhaps Makio was taking advantage of Ono no Takasue's frequent absences by seducing the lonely Lady Jiju. It was not unheard of, after all, but still – no woman of quality would indulge in a liaison with a mere servant.

Glancing sidelong, Hiromasa noticed Seimei watching the play of the shadows behind the curtain. His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head a little, but his expression remained serene. The reaction, small though it was, reinforced Hiromasa's suspicions. When Makio emerged from the curtains, Hiromasa gave him a dark, disapproving look until the manservant sauntered out of the room.

Only then did he try to regain the earlier conversation. "We were speaking of your home, lady. The courtyard garden is very fine, easily the equal of anything to be found in the capital."

Jiju's silken robes made a soft rustling noise as she moved. "You need not flatter me, Lord Hiromasa. My husband's house and garden are nothing out of the ordinary."

It was the proscribed response, but Hiromasa thought he detected sadness in her tone. He resolved to try harder. "I disagree. The fishpond is charming and the elements of your garden within the courtyard are laid out perfectly."

"How kind of you to notice."

His smile began to hurt. Perhaps he was trying too hard. Hiromasa glanced over at Seimei, who was eating a dish of red beans drizzled with vine syrup. He seemed oblivious to anything but his food. Hiromasa cast around for something else to say. He hadn't realised flirting could be so difficult.

His gaze settled on a piece of calligraphy mounted on the wall. Inspired, he said, "I composed a poem on the beauty of your garden."

Seimei put down his bowl and turned to him, mischief gleaming in his eyes. "Indeed? Well – I for one am eager to hear this poem. Lady Jiju, I must tell you that Lord Hiromasa is considered a fine poet at court."

The lady fluttered a little and moved closer to the curtain. "Please, Lord Hiromasa. I would like to hear your poem."

Flustered, for there was no poem, Hiromasa opened and closed his mouth a few times like a fish. Aware of his audience looking at him expectantly, he plucked the first image that came into his mind and elaborated on it:

_Carp in the pond, flowers arranged like stars in the sky,  
Altogether nicer than the tangled branches of that other garden._

A profound silence greeted the end of his poem. When he risked a peek at Seimei, he felt certain he saw his friend's lips twitch in an effort not to laugh. But the look Seimei gave him was one of complete innocence.

"What a charming poem," Jiju said when the silence grew too uncomfortable. "An unusual form, but pleasing nevertheless. I would be very pleased if you would write it out for me, Lord Hiromasa."

"Gladly, lady." Relief loosened his limbs and he sat back, congratulating himself. Seimei had a maddening tendency to smirk at his poems, but the lady seemed impressed. His confidence made him brave. "In return, I wonder if I could be so bold as to ask if you would delight us with a tune or two on the _kin_."

A second silence fell. Jiju drew back from the curtains. "The _kin_?"

"I heard you this afternoon, lady. Early on, shortly after we arrived. It was such a beautiful, melancholic sound I found myself drawn irresistibly. Such grace and mastery is a rare and wonderful gift..." Hiromasa faltered into confusion when the silence continued and Seimei frowned.

Jiju said quietly, "You must be mistaken, my lord. I have no _kin_. My husband dislikes music and considers it a frivolous pursuit unworthy of my time."

"But... I heard it quite distinctly." Hiromasa gazed at the curtains, puzzled by the lady's reticence. "I followed the music – your maid saw me, she will tell you. I asked her who was playing with such skill and where I could find the musician."

Seimei picked up his wine-cup and looked into its depths with interest. "Where did the music lead you?"

"To the pavilion in the walled garden."

A shorter silence followed this, and then Seimei murmured, "Interesting."

"Lord Seimei?" Jiju sounded uncertain.

"It's nothing, my lady. Nothing that should trouble you, anyway." There was an edge to his voice, a subtle note Hiromasa had heard before. Seimei glanced towards the end of the hall where Makio now knelt, apparently oblivious to their conversation.

"If you're sure." Now she sounded relieved. "You are the most capable of men, Seimei."

Hiromasa felt his spine stiffen at her words. First she'd been overly familiar with the manservant, now she was addressing Seimei as an intimate. Suspicion chilled him. Was Lady Jiju a practised seductress after all, rather than the helpless innocent Seimei believed her to be?

Hiromasa considered himself something of an expert on women. Certainly he felt sure that he'd encountered more of them than Seimei ever had. If his friend was in danger of losing his heart to a lady then Hiromasa wanted to ensure the lady was acceptable. Jiju might be beautiful and lonely, but her odd behaviour made him suspect her motives. Clearly, Seimei needed saving from himself, and Hiromasa was the only one capable of saving him.

For the rest of the meal, Hiromasa's thoughts were occupied with how best to disentangle Seimei and Lady Jiju. He maintained a superficial, polite conversation and ate a little of everything set in front of him. All the while, he kept a careful watch for evidence of the love affair between his friend and their hostess. But Seimei was as blank and charming as he ever was in company. Not by a single flicker of expression or intonation of voice did he reveal his feelings.

Even when they finished their meal and made their goodnights before withdrawing from the hall, Hiromasa saw nothing to suggest Seimei's interest in Jiju. Disappointed with Seimei's discretion, Hiromasa took himself off to bed.

* * * *

A sound woke him. Startled from a dream that slipped away from him as soon as he opened his eyes, Hiromasa lay still and listened.

The noise came again – a sob or a moan. A faint scrabbling sound. Anything else was suddenly deafened by the pounding of blood in his ears. Hiromasa took a deep breath and sat up, alert to further disturbances. The noise could have been anything, but his mind fastened on the most obvious explanation: Seimei and Jiju.

Hiromasa got to his feet, almost tripping over his cloak and the top layer of his robes. The embers in the brazier still glimmered with feeble light, enough for him to make out vague shapes in the darkness. With the blinds drawn down to the veranda, he could see nothing of the garden outside. He shivered in the cold, feeling the damp of the woods curl around him like mist.

The noise came again. Another sob, and then a hesitant tapping. Hiromasa halted his stride halfway across the room. Someone was knocking on the door. His immediate reaction was one of relief – Seimei wasn't having sex with their hostess, after all. His second reaction was curiosity. Who would knock on his door in the middle of the night? Hiromasa stood thinking for a while then crept back to his sleeping mat and fumbled for his sword. In his opinion, the only creatures that came knocking after nightfall were demons – and hadn't Seimei told him a demon would come and take advantage of Lady Jiju's repressed emotions?

Hiromasa clutched the sword and moved towards the door. He told himself he wasn't scared. He'd faced demons before. Exorcisms and demon-slaying were becoming almost the norm these days. Besides, if he ended up thrown across the room and in mortal peril, Seimei would save him. Or at least Hiromasa hoped he would.

The knocking became louder, more insistent. Hiromasa edged closer, the sword held in his right hand as he opened the door with his left. He peered out through the gap and blinked at the sudden flare of light. He backed away and the figure on the veranda stepped forward.

The glow from the lamp held against her breast revealed a woman of extraordinary beauty, her face a perfect oval, her moth eyebrows delicate, her eyes large and lustrous, and her lips plump and parted to reveal the slightest glimmer of aesthetically blackened teeth. Her hair hung loose, trailing around her feet, and she wore only a single shift of unlined silk.

Hiromasa swallowed and gripped the door. He was glad of the darkness to hide his reaction to her appearance. "Lady Jiju?" he croaked, though it could be no one else. Seimei's description of her as beautiful had failed to prepare him for just how exquisite she was. The idea of any man wanting to take mistresses when he had such a woman within his household made Hiromasa's head spin.

Only after he'd gaped at her for long moments did he recollect his wits. "Lady, is something wrong? Is there some trouble amongst the servants I can help you with?"

Jiju gazed at him, her expression pensive. She bit her lip, cast a glance downwards, then looked at him again. A flush of colour spread across her cheeks. Her eyes gleamed. When she spoke, her voice was husky, seductive. "My lord, I need your help indeed."

Hiromasa coughed, certain he'd misunderstood her intentions. Surely she was asking something innocent of him. He took a tighter grip on his sword and emerged onto the veranda, the weapon still raised. His instincts rang a distant alarm when, rather than shrinking away from the blade, Jiju widened her eyes and assumed a coy expression.

"Oh, Lord Hiromasa! What a big sword you have." She gave him a teasing look, playing the coquette. "Do you know how to use it?"

"I... Yes." Hiromasa felt distinctly uncomfortable. Her boldness shocked him, and he wondered how this could be the same demure woman he'd met earlier. "Lady, please tell me what I can do to serve you."

Jiju laughed, the sound breathless. "Serve me? I like that. I like you, Hiromasa. Come, let me inside and we can pleasure one another until daybreak."

Hiromasa stared at her, his mouth dropping open. Never in his whole life had a woman offered herself to him so blatantly and with such a glaring lack of finesse. "What did you say?"

"You heard." She smiled, coming closer to him and lowering the lamp. He caught a glimpse of her nipples, dark and sharp beneath the flimsy covering of her shift.

He could smell her, he realised with a shock of arousal, and then he dragged his thoughts back, ashamed of himself. Flirting with the lady was one thing, sleeping with her was something entirely different. Hiromasa felt torn. He was flattered, of course he was, but the lady's lascivious expression frightened him.

"I – I don't think that's a good idea," he stammered. "What of your reputation? Your husband's reputation?"

"That's unimportant." She took another step nearer, her gaze fixed on him, her body ripe with invitation.

"Ah, what about _my_ reputation?" Hiromasa squeaked, then cleared his throat. He thought rapidly. What would Seimei say? He darted a glance at the closed blinds of the adjoining room along the veranda and hoped his friend was still asleep. Turning his gaze back onto Jiju, he drew himself up and adopted a suitably blank expression. "I regret, lady, I cannot accommodate your, um, request. You should return to your room."

"Please, my lord – reconsider your decision." Jiju knelt in front of him, her hair pooling around her like black water. The lamplight dipped beneath her shift, drawing his attention to her cleavage. She looked up, smiling. "No one will know. No one will care. I need you, Lord Hiromasa."

His mind clouded with lust. He couldn't tear his gaze from the sensual promise of her mouth. "Why me?"

A dreamy look crossed her features. "You're strong and handsome. Your face is kind. You wrote me a poem."

Hiromasa tried to cling to his sanity. "What about Seimei?"

"What about him?" Her smile intensified and the light in her eyes shone from complicity to wickedness. She reached out and touched him through the three thin layers of silk he wore, running her hand from his knee to his thigh.

"I, uh, I'm..." Hiromasa's mouth went dry. He jerked backwards, his sword trembling in his hand. It felt heavy, and he longed to set it down. He continued to retreat with small, uneven steps as Jiju rose to her feet and insinuated herself close to him.

She put a hand on his sword and pushed it down. "You don't need that."

Her skin felt cool, a strange contrast to the heat in her eyes. Hiromasa finally paid attention to his misgivings. No woman would separate him from his sword so easily. No woman would separate him from Seimei, either. If Lady Jiju thought to play them off one against the other, she was very much mistaken.

Taking a deep breath, Hiromasa said, "Lady, I can't dishonour you. Go back to your room and sleep."

Her expression changed, became panicked. She clutched at his sleeve. "No. Please. Hear me out – you must help me. I'm aching – burning... I need you!"

Hiromasa pulled away and stepped back into the safety of his room. "Go to sleep, Lady Jiju," he commanded, and shut the door in her face.

He crossed the room, placed his sword beside the sleeping mat, and lay down. With decisive gestures, he pulled his cloak and topmost robe over himself and closed his eyes. As soon as his heartbeat slowed and the banging of his pulse faded in his ears, Hiromasa heard Jiju sobbing outside on the veranda.

He rolled over, facing away from the door. His skin crawled at his deliberate cruelty. The poor woman sounded utterly distraught. Women had often cried over him, but not as desperately as this. Perhaps he should be pleased by it, but instead he found it peculiar.

After a while, the sound of weeping lessened. He heard the patter of her footsteps across the veranda, and then he heard her scratching at Seimei's door.

Hiromasa sat up straight, holding his breath as he strained to hear what happened next. The scratching became a knocking. He eased his way to the end of the sleeping mat and knelt, head cocked, as now he heard the sounds of a murmured conversation. It was pitched too low for him to make out the words, but he was certain Seimei's tone was far more intimate and caressing than it needed to be in such a situation.

A strike of jealousy shocked him, or perhaps it offended him – Hiromasa wasn't sure what emotion he felt the most. The feeling grew stronger when he heard Seimei open the door. Hiromasa leaned forward on his hands and knees, desperately listening for some indication of what passed between them. Jiju's voice was muffled, but then she sobbed aloud. Hiromasa felt a small triumph – Seimei had rejected her! He knelt back, inexplicably pleased, only to frown in annoyance when he heard Seimei's voice, soft and deep, speaking in a tone that sounded comforting.

Hiromasa resisted the urge to run outside and stop his friend from doing something stupid. It was none of his business what Seimei chose to do. Except it was his business. His head whirling, Hiromasa got to his feet and stumbled across to the dividing wall. He put his ear against it, hoping to eavesdrop, but heard only distorted mutterings from the room beyond.

Was that the door closing? Hiromasa shifted along the wall to find a better position. If Jiju was inside the room, Seimei might need some help. With this altruistic thought in mind, Hiromasa pressed closer, hugging the wall as he attempted to hear what was going on next door.

He still couldn't hear clearly. Hiromasa huffed a sigh and moved forward. His shin encountered an item of furniture – a cabinet, he remembered, with a small sculpture of orange jade depicting a deer in the forest. The jade wobbled, sliding on the surface of the cabinet. Knocked off-balance, the cabinet scraped across the floor and tilted. With a crash, it fell over and landed on Hiromasa's bare feet.

He shoved the cabinet away, careless of the heavy thud as it and the jade struck the floor. Biting back his yelps, Hiromasa hopped around the room swearing until he collapsed onto the sleeping mat. He felt his toes, determining that none were broken, then lay miserable with the heat of the pain and felt sorry for himself.

Despite the tremendous amount of noise he'd made, neither Seimei nor Jiju came to enquire about his welfare. Hiromasa sniffled in irritation and covered his face with his cloak. He didn't care what they did. He wouldn't listen.

He remained awake for a long time, nursing his injured feet, but heard only silence from next door.

* * * *

Desperate screams shattered Hiromasa's sleep. He reached for his sword and rolled upright, remembering his bruised feet only when he was halfway across the floor. Darkness filled the room; the embers in the brazier had finally settled and died. When he flung open the door, Hiromasa blinked at the eerie light of the pre-dawn, like a layer of ash above the black surrounds of the woods.

He hurried onto the veranda, trying not to limp, and found Lady Jiju's maidservant collapsed in a heap outside his door. The young woman rocked back and forth, making a high keening noise as she clutched convulsively at her robes.

Hiromasa knelt beside her, concealing the sword behind him in case the sight of it frightened her further. "Miss, what is it? What's wrong?"

The maidservant looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed and her face a ruin of grief. Words stuttered on her lips. She bowed her head and wailed.

Short of shaking the problem out of her, Hiromasa didn't know how to proceed. He stood, looking around the courtyard for any other servants who might know how to deal with the weeping maidservant.

Behind him, the door of the adjacent room opened. He turned to see Seimei emerge onto the veranda, his violet top robe over his shoulders to keep off the chill of the early morning. His hair was gathered into its usual topknot, though a few loose strands brushed his cheek. Hiromasa stared at this slight disarray and hoped sleep was the cause rather than love.

Seimei glanced at the maidservant and sighed. "I expected this would happen."

Hiromasa frowned. "What?"

At the sound of his voice, the maidservant scrambled up and rushed at Seimei, falling at his feet in semi-prostration. "Lord Seimei, please help! My mistress – Lady Jiju – she has hanged herself!"

Apparently unruffled by this pronouncement, Seimei arched an eyebrow. "That," he said over the maidservant's head as she clung to his sleeve without any thought of protocol, "is what I expected."

Hiromasa's mouth dropped open. Drawing a breath, he found his voice before he could think about what he was saying. "Seimei! That's so heartless! If you knew it would happen, why didn't you stop it? How could you be so cruel?"

"Cruel? I was not cruel." Seimei tugged his sleeve free from the maidservant's grasp. "You know as well as I do, Hiromasa, that to intervene in events already set in motion is to court disaster. If one cannot alter destiny, the least one can do is tidy up after it. Don't you agree?"

Hiromasa stared. "How can I agree with something so outrageous and unfair?"

"You were part of this too," Seimei said softly.

Shaking his head, Hiromasa stepped back as if to deny all knowledge of the night's events. "If you hadn't rejected her..."

"I didn't. I tried to help her."

Fresh shock made him weak. Hiromasa tightened his grip on his sword. "Then you – you... You and Lady Jiju..?"

Seimei gave him a look wiped clean of any emotion. "Do not judge things you don't understand."

"So you admit it – you slept with her!" The sword slipped from his grasp and clattered onto the veranda. The maidservant jumped and shrieked before subsiding into fresh sobs. Hiromasa ignored her, anger clouding his mind. He pointed at Seimei, short, stabbing jabs of his finger to emphasise his words as he continued, "Seimei, for shame! You spoke of her with admiration, and then you let her die? She came to me first, and I turned her down. If I could say no, why couldn't you?"

Seimei's gaze narrowed, his expression suggesting that Hiromasa's outburst wasn't worthy of a reply.

The maidservant broke off from her sobbing and addressed Seimei. "Please, my lord, save her!"

Hiromasa bent to retrieve his sword. "Yes, Seimei. Save her." He shook out his sleeves, each movement angry. Tight with tension, he waited for a response.

Seimei sighed. "Very well." He gestured for the maidservant to rise. "Show us."

They followed the young woman along the covered walkway and into the main part of the house. Hiromasa still carried his sword. With his thoughts in turmoil, the solid strength of the sword in his hand made him feel more confident.

Had Seimei slept with Lady Jiju? Hiromasa stumbled over the answer. Seimei's reply had been oblique; perhaps he was reading too much into it. He tended to do that a lot. But what if Seimei really had been with her? Hiromasa tried to untangle the threads of pride and jealousy that wrapped around him. Jiju had come to him first, after all – but why had Seimei succumbed to temptation?

Hiromasa gnawed his lower lip as thoughts darker and lonelier than any he'd experienced before chased through his head. He shook himself free of them as they entered the main hall, where a cluster of servants stood in a corner, holding candles and whispering to one another.

They withdrew, still murmuring, as Seimei approached. The maidservant lifted aside a curtain and they passed through into Jiju's room.

The space was lit by dozens of candles and filled with a light, sweet fragrance from a smouldering ball of incense inside the brazier. Lady Jiju, still in her shift, lay across the padded silk of her wisteria-patterned gown, one arm out-flung and her body limp. Her long hair spread around her, a heavy swathe of it half covering her face. A dark red bruise discoloured the perfection of her pale throat.

Hiromasa shifted on his feet and changed his grip on the sword. He let his gaze wander from the motionless body to the length of white silk still tied to the roof-beam. He stared at it and swallowed the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. His attention flittered to an elegant little knife that lay gleaming on the floor, then to the cedar-wood clothes chest the maid must have stood on to cut her mistress down.

Beside him, Seimei sniffed delicately. "Ah, that scent! Gardenias, if I am not mistaken. An interesting choice."

"Someone has been here." The maidservant stared around with wide eyes. "The candles... I left only one burning. And the brazier was empty, all in ashes."

"Hmm." Seimei knelt on the sleeping mat and looked closely at Jiju.

"Perhaps one of the other servants brought light," Hiromasa suggested.

The maidservant gazed at him. "Then why didn't they stay with her?"

Unable to think of a sensible reply, he shrugged. He glanced towards Seimei, who leaned over Jiju's body in an attitude almost lover-like, his violet top robe sliding from his shoulders as he made his examination. A stab of jealousy made Hiromasa turn away for a moment, his hand clenched around his sword.

Seimei sat back on his heels and made a soft, contemplative sound. He gazed at Jiju's still, silent form then looked towards the maid. "Tell me exactly what happened."

The maidservant crept closer and knelt beside him, her gaze fixed on her mistress. "She was restless all evening after dinner. Nothing seemed to give her any peace, not even her poetry. She stared into the flames of the candles and said she was burning. Her skin was flushed and she paced the room, pausing often at the door as if she wanted to go outside."

"And did she?"

"Not at first. I persuaded her to drink a cup of honeyed wine mixed with herbs to soothe her and bring sleep, but it seemed to make her worse." The maidservant's mouth trembled, and a small sob escaped her.

"Did you mix the draught yourself?" Seimei's tone was gentle.

The maidservant drew a deep breath then expelled it with a quivering sigh, visibly pulling herself together. "No. Makio brought it. There's a jar of the wine already prepared in the kitchen... Lady Jiju often has trouble sleeping when the master is away. She calls for the drink almost every night. All the servants know where it is."

Hiromasa stifled a disparaging comment at Makio's name. Suspicion sharpened, and he glanced at Seimei, curious to see his reaction.

Seimei simply nodded, his attention back on Jiju. "And after she drank the wine?"

The maidservant considered before she replied. "She flung off her top robe, complaining of the heat, and said she would walk in the garden. I was ready to attend her, but she ordered me to stay indoors. I lay down on my mat and waited. By the candle's reckoning, she was gone about an hour. I think I dozed for a while. I heard my lady's step in the hall and sat up, asking how she felt, but she didn't answer.

"I followed her behind the screens. She seemed exhausted and miserable, her body racked with fine spasms. I thought she must be crying, but her face was dry of tears. I put her to bed, talking to her the whole time, asking what was wrong, if she'd caught a chill, had a night-bird frightened her... She didn't reply and turned her face to the wall. I knew something was wrong, for she always has a kind word for me and this time, it was as if I wasn't there."

When the maidservant fell silent, Seimei prompted her. "And then?"

She recalled herself and spoke quietly. "Then I went away to my mat outside the screens here," and she gestured past Hiromasa to a set of elegant folding screens depicting pairs of mandarin ducks on a river. "I lay down to sleep, but heard noises – soft thumps, the sound of something heavy dragged across the floor, the rustle of silk. I called out to my lady but she made no reply. All was quiet again, then I heard her sob, and suddenly there was a terrible sound, a creaking of wood and a choking noise..."

White-faced, the maidservant shuddered at the memory. "I rushed in and found her hanging from the beam. She'd climbed onto the clothes chest to do it. Her feet were kicking. I – I..." She struggled with her words and shook her head, fresh tears springing to her eyes.

Seimei indicated the little silver knife. "You cut her down with that?"

"Yes, lord." The maidservant gulped as she looked at the blade. She wound the loose fabric of her robe between her fingers. "It's strange. I never saw the knife before. Perhaps the mistress kept it in her desk to trim her writing-brushes or to cut paper, but I swear I've never seen her use it. Yet it was there within reach when I needed it."

"Hmm."

"Not that it did any good." The maid covered her mouth with her fist, sobbing around it. "No good at all, because I was too late. She's dead!"

Seimei tilted his head. "No, she's not."

A moment of perfect silence fell over the room before the maidservant whispered, "My lord?" in wondering tones.

Hiromasa huffed, relief and annoyance making his voice gruffer than he intended. "You might have told us earlier!"

"I wanted to be in possession of the full facts." Seimei put a hand on Jiju's forehead and stroked her face before resting his fingertips over her throat. His lips parted; he appeared to murmur something before he looked up again.

"Don't worry. I can revive her. You," he addressed the maidservant, "stay with me for the sake of your lady's honour. Hiromasa, go to the kitchen. Fetch a cup, a jar of fresh wine – not the honeyed wine – and a flagon of water. I will also need nine sticks of incense. Oh, and if you can... find Makio. I want to talk to him."

* * * *

Leaving his sword, Hiromasa hurried through the house and found the kitchen. The cook and the other servants who'd gathered earlier in the main hall now stood in a huddle around the hearth, where last night's embers still glowed with desultory heat beneath a thick layer of grey ash.

The servants fell silent and straightened as he approached. Hiromasa looked at each of them, unsurprised when he realised Makio was not amongst their number. Speaking with quiet authority, he asked the servants to bring him the items Seimei required. Apparently glad of the orders, they scattered in different directions and brought back a lacquered tray with an inlay of mother-of-pearl, jugs of wine and water, and a delicate glazed cup.

While he waited for the incense sticks, Hiromasa drew his robes tight around him, conscious of his state of undress. He stood by the hearth, warming his hands, and asked the cook in idle tones if he knew of Makio's whereabouts.

"No, my lord." The cook's forehead dewed with sweat and he gave a shiver. "Haven't seen him since he came in here to fetch my lady's evening drink."

"He's not in his quarters?"

The cook gave a splintered laugh and gestured at the hearth. "He's a strange lad. Refuses to sleep in the same room as the rest of the menservants. He sleeps right here by the fire. Always the last to go to bed and always the first to rise."

Hiromasa frowned as some distant memory flickered and a piece of the puzzle fell into place. He stared at the embers glowing beneath the ash and thought of Makio's strange, gold-flecked eyes; of his noiseless tread and his gentle, unearthly beauty.

"I wonder," Hiromasa murmured. He blinked free of his pondering and turned to the cook. "Show me where the honeyed wine is kept."

"Certainly, my lord. This way." The cook led him through a curtained doorway into a distilling room, cool and dry in the dawn and redolent with the heady scent of dozens of herbs and spices. Hiromasa put a hand to his nose, snuffling a little at the smell, and then he realised why his eyes were smarting and his throat had thickened in reaction.

The medicine chests against the walls had been ransacked. Each drawer – and Hiromasa couldn't even begin to count how many there were – had been yanked open and their contents scattered. Powders, pills, dried plants, slippery wet objects pulled from jars, desiccated husks and cracked eggs had been thrown to the floor, mixed together and trampled upon. One particular specimen, oozing slime, looked like it could be the musk glands of a kirin.

The cook let out a cry of horror. "The master's aphrodisiacs!"

Hiromasa grimaced. As he thought, these were the ruined remains of Ono no Takasue's prized collection. His nose twitched; the smell dragged at him. Conscious of the power of so many aphrodisiacs, Hiromasa ushered the cook out of the room and pulled the curtain across the doorway.

He put his back to it and said, "Let no one enter until Makio is found and can answer for his actions."

"You think he did this?" The cook seemed bewildered. "Not Makio!"

"He was the one who prepared Lady Jiju's wine."

"But..."

"And he sleeps by the fire." Hiromasa paused as another thought came to him. "If he didn't do it, he might have seen or heard the culprit sneaking into the storeroom. Either way, we need to find Makio. He will give us the truth."

The rest of the servants stood by the hearth, their faces showing their shock at this new development. On the table nearby stood the tray, and Hiromasa saw the incense sticks set beside the jars and cup. He thanked them and gave fresh orders: "Find Makio."

Hiromasa remained in the kitchen while the servants hurried away on their search. He toyed with the seal on the wine-jar and dipped a finger to taste the cool water, fresh-drawn from the well. He felt certain he knew what had happened last night and why, and was anxious to discuss his ideas with Seimei. Instead, he waited until the servants returned with the news that Makio was nowhere to be found.

"You've looked everywhere?"

One of the menservants spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "Lord, the estate is of modest size, with not many places a man could hide."

"What about the woods?" Hiromasa asked. "He could hide there and never be seen again."

The servants looked at one another until the cook said, "The gates are locked at night."

Hiromasa waved a hand in irritation. "Someone check. If he's run, it will be hard to track him. Hurry!"

The servants bowed and scurried off again. Hiromasa sighed and picked up the tray. It was beneath his dignity to do the work of a menial, but enough time had been wasted. He strode through the hall and carried the tray into Jiju's room, ducking beneath the curtain as he entered.

"Seimei, here are –" He stopped, struck dumb by the sight of the semi-conscious Jiju clasped in Seimei's arms, her shift low over her breasts and Seimei whispering something in her ear. Hiromasa stared in polite outrage before he remembered the presence of the maidservant. He summoned back his voice. "An exorcism?"

"Of a sort." Seimei gave him an unreadable glance as he drew Jiju's robes up over her bare shoulders. She sighed and slumped against his chest. Gently, he set her away from him, signalling for the maidservant to attend her mistress. He flicked another look at Hiromasa. "Did you find Makio?"

Hiromasa shook off the clinging snarls of jealousy. "No. I think he's run away into the woods."

"Of course he has." Seimei sat back on his heels and adjusted the drape of his top robe, smoothing down the violet silk.

"Naturally you would know." Hiromasa quashed his annoyance. "But Seimei, perhaps you didn't know that Makio tried to destroy Lord Takasue's collection. The storeroom is a muddle of aphrodisiacs flung this way and that."

"Ah." Seimei watched the maidservant ease Jiju's limp form down onto the sleeping mat. Sitting forward, he covered her with the wisteria-patterned robe, each gesture careful and deliberate.

"I know what happened." Hiromasa lifted his chin, proud of his reasoning. He paused, waiting for Seimei to invite him to explain his thoughts. When he remained silent, Hiromasa continued in pointed tones, "I think Makio poisoned Lady Jiju with the aphrodisiacs and then scattered them about so we wouldn't know which ones he'd used."

Seimei looked up, his expression almost indulgent. "Very good, Hiromasa. What else are you thinking?"

Hiromasa met Seimei's gaze and swallowed. "I think I know who Makio is."

This time there was no reply. Seimei smiled and inclined his head. Just as he turned back to Jiju, he paused as if listening to a noise far distant. "If I am not mistaken, our host has returned home."

"Lord Takasue?" Hiromasa glanced towards the door. Several moments later, Ono no Takasue announced his arrival in the main hall with a shout of irritation and a demand for wine. A caterwaul of voices sounded until Takasue shouted again.

"Guests? What guests? Where's my wife? What's that you say? She... she did _what_?"

Seimei looked at Hiromasa and exhaled a slow sigh. "A charming man, as you will see."

The curtain in the doorway pulled back, and Ono no Takasue shouldered his way into his wife's room. He stood there gaping, his mouth forming words that had no sound as he took in the sight before him.

Hiromasa looked at their host with interest. Takasue was nothing like he'd imagined. His fashionable cloak, altogether too short and too tight, couldn't hide the fact that Takasue was running to fat. Runnels of sweat cut through the application of dusty white cosmetics on his pudgy face, and Hiromasa had to stifle a snort of laughter at the sight of the white streaks in Takasue's badly dyed hair and beard.

Never had Hiromasa seen a more unlikely lover. He reminded himself of all Seimei had said about this man – of Takasue's appalling poetry and his scores of mistresses and his liberal, immoral use of aphrodisiacs. Laughter threatened to spill forth again, and he bit his lip to stop it.

"Abe no Seimei!" Takasue went pale beneath his make-up and his jowls trembled. "I didn't expect to see you again. I mean, I didn't expect to see you so soon. What has happened to my wife? The servants say she hanged herself. Is it true?"

"As you see." Seimei indicated the silken remains of the noose looped around the roof-beam. "But be at ease, Lord Takasue. Your wife is not dead. Look, now – she's starting to wake..."

Hiromasa went closer to Jiju's sleeping mat in the hope of offering assistance when she woke.

Takasue bridled at him and demanded, "Who is this man?"

"Minamoto no Hiromasa," Seimei said, his tone neutral.

"Minamoto...?" Takasue's aggrieved expression changed to one of delight and awe. He bobbed into a bow. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord! What an honour to have the grandson of His Majesty lodging beneath my roof..."

Hiromasa stared at him, astonished he could be so obsequious when his wife lay pale and wan upon her bed. Drawing back from the fluttering, too-familiar gestures of Takasue, he said with cold force, "Your wife wakens, sir."

Whatever Takasue would have said in reply was cut short by a cry from the maidservant, who clung to her mistress and called out, "My lady! My lady!"

Jiju murmured, her head moving from side to side. She frowned as if disturbed by the noise of her maidservant, and then her eyes opened. For a moment she lay still, submitting to the happy tears of the maid, then her gaze wandered around the room. Hiromasa gave a reassuring smile when she looked at him, but her attention didn't linger. She passed over her husband without a flicker of emotion and moved on until finally, her gaze came to rest on Seimei.

Hiromasa saw the birth of memory; saw the shock go through her. Jiju's eyes widened; her lips parted on a gasp of horror. She sat bolt upright, clutching the wisteria-patterned gown like a shield, and shook her hair around her face to hide her expression.

"Please leave, all of you!" Her voice sounded husky and sore, hoarse from the noose. "You shouldn't be here. This is wrong. I thought..." She broke off to glance upwards. When she saw the white silk hanging from the roof-beam, she moaned in distress and turned into the safety of her maidservant's embrace.

"Pour some of that wine, Hiromasa. Water it down just a little," Seimei said, and when Hiromasa passed the full cup to him, Seimei whispered a few words over it. He pressed the cup into Jiju's nerveless hands. "Drink, lady. It will restore your health."

She drank it a sip at a time, and colour came back into her face. With a murmur, she drained it and set the cup on the floor. Jiju put a hand to her throat and breathed deeply. "I remember," she said. Tears glimmered in her eyes; she blinked them back and bowed, recollecting her dignity. "Lord Hiromasa, Lord Seimei, please forgive my conduct. I have brought shame upon myself and my husband."

"Not at all." Seimei's voice remained gentle. "What happened here was not your fault."

"So you told me last night. I didn't believe you."

"Last night? What is all this about?" Ono no Takasue stepped forward, full of bluster as he tried to assert himself. "Wife, I require an explanation!"

"It's easily explained, my lord." Jiju sounded weary. "These gentlemen called here yesterday and I entertained them. After dinner, I sent for my usual sleeping draught. Usually it works quickly, but last night it seemed to worsen my sleeplessness. I felt... outside of myself."

She flicked a glance at Seimei, who nodded, then continued, "My body was burning, inside and out. My robes weighed me down. I was a conscious of a longing – of a desperate desire..."

Takasue stared at her. "A desire for what?"

Jiju met her husband's gaze without flinching. "Sex, my lord. I longed for a man's hard cock to fill me."

Hiromasa forced back a smile as Takasue choked and flailed, his face puce.

"Naturally I could not lie with the male servants," Jiju said, her expression and tone impassive. "The idea came to me that I should approach these two gentlemen. They'd been so kind and attentive in conversation at dinner. Perhaps, my fevered mind suggested, they'd be kind and attentive to my needs in bed."

Takasue gasped, stumbling back against the wall. "This is outrageous!"

"But," Jiju's voice rang out, making her husband jump, "neither Lord Hiromasa nor Lord Seimei responded to my advances."

Hiromasa glanced over at Seimei, feeling a twist of guilt for doubting his friend. Seimei arched his eyebrows and smiled, patient and calm.

"Lord Seimei told me I was suffering delusions brought about by a spell." Jiju folded her hands in her lap and looked over at him. "You were being kind, my lord. It was not a spell, was it?"

Seimei gave a sigh. "Yes and no. Your sleeping draught had been drugged with your husband's aphrodisiacs. Not just one or two, but a dozen or more – a dangerous amount, a potentially fatal dose. That is why you felt such an unbearable hunger for sex."

Takasue interrupted. "My aphrodisiacs? Someone tampered with my collection?"

"Your collection is destroyed." Hiromasa couldn't keep the contempt from his tone. "The same person who drugged your wife also deprived you of your precious collection."

"Who did this?" Takasue puffed up, his beard waggling with affront. "Who is responsible?"

Seimei spoke. "Makio."

"Who?"

"Your manservant. The handsome young man with the golden eyes. Makio."

Takasue snorted, shaking his head and giving a self-conscious laugh. "That is not his name! His name is – it's..." He stopped, looking puzzled.

"You don't know his name?" Seimei asked silkily.

"I never needed to know it!" Takasue put his nose in the air. "I – I met him while out hunting in the woods one day. He told me he was looking for work. He seemed personable enough, spoke well and wore clothes of good quality. I took him into my household and never heard a complaint against him."

"You thought he was beneath your notice." Seimei's voice lowered to a dangerous purr. "Just as you appear to think your wife is beneath your notice."

Hiromasa added a soft 'humph' of agreement and gave Takasue a hard stare.

"That's not true. I admire Jiju very much. I..." He ran to a halt when he saw Seimei's expression. "It's no business of yours if a man neglects his wife!"

"I make it my business, Lord Takasue, because such a thing causes a great imbalance, and where there is imbalance, demons and other creatures of power will step in to tip the scales into darkness and despair." Seimei paused, timing the impact of his next words. "Makio is a fox."

Jiju uttered a sigh and leaned against her maidservant. "I knew it. There was something about him – his movements, the look in his eyes, the way he played the kin..."

Hiromasa spluttered. "Makio was the musician I heard in the pavilion?"

"He would often play at my request." Jiju smiled in remembrance. "His music spoke to me, told me of freedom and strength. I loved to listen to him."

Takasue slid down the wall and sat crumpled on the floor. "A fox," he said faintly. "A fox in my house. Unbelievable. Inconceivable."

"You have a fox shrine in the walled garden." Seimei fixed Takasue with a glittering look. "When I visited it yesterday, it was covered in moss. No one had worshipped there for some time. There's a terrible hubris in living in the woods and not making an offering to the lord who inhabits it. Truly, it would not take much to appease him."

Realisation made Hiromasa rock back on his heels. "Makio is the lord of Hahaso Woods?"

"He came here angry at the neglect of his shrine. His purpose in taking the role of a servant was to cause trouble within the household." Seimei turned his focus to Jiju, a thoughtful expression in his eyes. "I'm surprised he stayed here for so long. But then, he had reason to stay."

"But," protested Hiromasa, "if he admired Lady Jiju, why did he try to dishonour her?"

"That was not his intention." Seimei spoke softly. "He knew Lady Jiju's character and strength. He knew what she'd do once she'd taken the drugged wine. He knew she'd try to seduce us... and he knew how she'd react to our rejection."

Hiromasa winced at the cruelty of it all. "He knew she'd kill herself from shame."

Silence stretched between them, and then Takasue gave a sob and hid his face in his hands. "This is my punishment. The fox meant it as a lesson for me. I have been lustful my whole life, yet never have I shown my own wife any attention. I am old and disgusting – I don't deserve a young and beautiful wife. Better for me to trick women into bed with aphrodisiacs rather than face the humiliation of being unable to perform with my own wife."

Takasue raised his arms to Jiju in entreaty. "Wife, Lord Seimei is right: you have nothing to be ashamed of. The disgrace is mine. Forgive me."

Jiju hesitated only a moment before she went to him and folded him in her embrace. "Husband," she murmured, her tone magnanimous, her expression triumphant. "I forgive you."

Seimei looked at Hiromasa and tilted his head. Together, they stood and withdrew from the room.

Before they crossed the threshold, Takasue called them back. "Lord Seimei, Lord Hiromasa... Thank you. Lesser men might have taken advantage of my wife's vulnerable state."

Seimei said nothing, so Hiromasa also remained silent.

Takasue gave a tentative smile. "How can I make amends to the fox?"

"Offer him sacrifice." Seimei gestured towards the nine sticks of incense placed on the tray. "Light the incense and ask his forgiveness, and then burn your aphrodisiacs in front of his shrine."

"All of them?" Takasue turned pale. Beside him, Jiju smiled.

"All of them." Seimei managed to keep his countenance. "They're of no use to you now. Burn them."

* * * *

The ox-cart pulled away from the estate of Ono no Takasue with a rumble and a shake. Hiromasa sighed as he settled himself amongst the cushions. "Well, Seimei. That was an interesting diversion."

"Mm." Seimei reclined on one elbow, flicking his fan in a lazy rhythm. "It all turned out rather well in the end, didn't it?"

Hiromasa snorted, then coughed. The thick, acrid scent of hundreds of aphrodisiacs reduced to smoke and ash still lingered, clinging to his cloak, caught in his hair, and seeming to line the back of his throat. He wrinkled his nose, remembering the sight of Takasue scurrying back and forth from the storeroom carrying jars of the aphrodisiac mixture.

The space in front of the fox shrine had been piled high with the stuff, and when Takasue had offered the torch to his wife, Jiju stepped forward and called out a prayer of thanksgiving to Lord Makio of Hahaso Woods.

In response, borne on the morning breeze, came the sound of the kin, a ripple of music to accompany the burning of the aphrodisiacs.

The stench from the bonfire had made Hiromasa feel queasy. He hoped the road to Nara would be smooth and free from pot-holes; otherwise, he thought he'd be ill. To distract himself, he pondered on the events of the last day. "I still don't understand all that business with Makio and Lady Jiju," he said at length. "You say he meant her no harm, but indirectly, he tried to kill her."

Seimei closed his fan and looked at him. "Quite the opposite. He tried to save her. The knife placed near at hand – did you not wonder about that? The maidservant said she'd never seen it before. Makio wanted Jiju to be cut down from the noose before death took her."

Hiromasa considered, tapping a finger against his chin as he thought. "And the candles and incense in her room – he did that, too?"

"Gardenia is the symbol of secret love." A slight smile curled Seimei's lips. "Lady Jiju treats her servants with kindness and respect. She valued Makio's company, praised and enjoyed his music. Perhaps, deep in her heart, she recognised his true nature. Little wonder he came to love her. It is often the way when a fox has close contact with a human."

Hiromasa glanced at him, suddenly alert. He studied Seimei's face, wondering if there was a hidden meaning for him alone in those words, but if there was, Seimei gave no outward sign of it. His expression remained inscrutable.

"In addition, I detected a spell," Seimei continued. "Small though it was, and imperfectly done, it was laid upon Jiju to preserve her life when she tried to hang herself. No, Makio did not want her to die. He just wanted to punish Ono no Takasue."

"Foxes are irritating beasts," Hiromasa grumbled. "You never know where you are with them."

Seimei lifted his fan again, touching the tip of it to his cheek. "Life would be so dull if we knew everything. You should be grateful for these opportunities."

"Opportunities!" Hiromasa shook his head and lay back on the cushions.

Time passed, and soon the ox-cart jolted out of the woods and regained the road. Expecting to feel calmer, Hiromasa found himself growing more agitated. His clothes seemed too tight, his skin too hot. He muttered, shifting position. The heavy throb of arousal made him squirm.

At first he tried to ignore it, but with each rock of the cart, the feeling intensified. He took surreptitious glances at Seimei, who appeared to be unaffected. Inwardly, Hiromasa cursed. It was just his luck to have inhaled some of the aphrodisiac ash and for it to take effect on him now, when his companion seemed to be utterly immune.

Hiromasa forced himself to think boring thoughts. It didn't work. Not even the memory of the Left Minister's terrible poetry recitals at court managed to distract him. He had to do something before his body betrayed him in the worst possible way.

"Seimei," he burst out, "how long till we reach Nara?"

Seimei quirked an eyebrow and gave him a slow smile. "Long enough for what you have in mind."

Hiromasa's mouth dropped open. "Seimei!"

Seimei was still laughing when Hiromasa jumped on him.


End file.
